The Twisted Road
by astalavista
Summary: Hawke is in love with Aveline, a fact that the guard is very blind to. For now. F!Hawke/Aveline
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Did you know that Aveline has like the least amount of stories ever? What a shame. This story is a gift for my muse, but also a challenge, and in my mind it's twisted and complex and will have me write characters I have never mentioned before. I hope I can pull it off. As always, reviews are very welcome! A special thanks to th1nm1nt for proofing for me. You're a star!

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><p>Hawke wanted Aveline, hard. It was a random thought that occurred to her, disturbing in its intensity. Hawke blamed the heat, the sun an angry ball in the sky that even reached them down in the hold of the Kirkwall-bound ship. Hawke had her back against one of the crossbeams, leaning against it with knees drawn to her chest.<p>

It stank in the hold, of too many people caged like animals, fleeing the blight in Ferelden. It had been difficult enough to secure them passage on one of the ships in Gwaren. So many wanted to flee. Now here they were, in the hold, and it smelled of sweat, grime, unwashed bodies and excrement.

Yes, no wonder that she was trying to distract herself with other thoughts. Nice thoughts. Like Aveline's incredible upper arms.

Hawke buried her sweaty face on her knees, ashamed by her own thoughts. The red-headed woman who had been fleeing with them was still grieving, freshly widowed. Not only widowed, but she had guided her husband's hand when ending his life, his blood fouled by the darkspawns' taint. Hawke had offered to take that task from her, but she had not let her. Aveline was a tragic, grieving widow. She deserved much better than one of her companions having lustful thoughts about her.

Still. It was hard not to. Aveline was strong, and her physique was almost to the point of sculpted. Hawke had seen sculptures at Ostagar that had been less perfect than the other woman. Thinking of Ostagar, she had never seen her there, even though she, Carver and Aveline had all served as soldiers in the King's army. Different regiments. Also, Aveline had been an officer, and the Hawkes had served as soldiers on the lowest rung of the army, too young and inexperienced. to have received any sort of promotion.

Hawke's eyes returned to Aveline's arms, holding her sword before her as she honed it with a whetstone. It did incredible things to her biceps, as did the red cords she had wrapped around both arms, matching the headband she wore to keep her hair away from her face. She was such a... warrior. Perfect. Even her skin was alabaster.

Hawke was a warrior as well, though not with sword and shield. She preferred the solid grip of a two-hander, its heavy weight straining her, pushing her to her limits. Despite her experience in the army, she was the tall and lanky kind, sinewy and fast. Speed was her advantage, not great strength.

Aveline leaned forward, entirely focused on her task. She was sitting across from Hawke, and as she leaned forward, she offered a good view of creamy, pale skin, dotted with freckles all over her collarbone. She was filling that shirt rather nicely...

Again, Hawke nestled her face against her knees, soaking the leather with her sweat and her utter embarrassment. Hawke should be grieving, like Aveline was grieving for Ser Wesley. They just lost her younger brother after all. It didn't matter that he had been abrasive, cocky and always trying to outdo her in anything they did, he had still been her brother, and she should be mourning. Her heated thoughts were the opposite of mourning. In her head, she started praying, reciting passages of the Chant of Light.

It didn't work. Aveline looked up at a sound, and her green eyes came to rest upon Hawke's face, watching her mouthing the prayers with an arched brow. Those eyes.

Hawke rose restlessly, starting to pace. The heat and the lethargy of just sitting around led to thoughts like this. If she could she would dunk herself in the cool sea, which looked placid and calm today for a change. "Maker, give me strength," she murmured, ignoring the puzzled looks of her sister and her mother. This heated infatuation needed to stop. Right now.

Unfortunately for Hawke, it never did.

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><p>"You look good in your new armor." The words came easily to Hawke's lips. To her, Aveline looked good in anything. "Different though. I liked your old leathers. This looks very heavy." She lightly prodded at the standard guard breastplate, the steel covering the chainmail layer underneath. She already missed the formidable arms, now covered by rows of chain.<p>

Aveline stood proudly, in Gamlen's hovel, spinning slowly in place as if this was a sort of grim fashion show. Gamlen eyed her warily and muttered angry remarks about guards in Lowtown, until Bethany hissed at him to shut up and be polite to their friend. Aveline eyed him sharply. Gamlen Amell should not expect any favors from Aveline Vallen, newest member of the Kirkwall city guard. "I am one of the very few Fereldans they accepted, based on my merit as an officer in King Cailan's army. I will live in the barracks in the Viscount's Keep now instead of that cheap hovel I rented near here. Glad to escape the fleas!" Her green eyes were sparkling with excitement.

Hawke wanted to kiss her and spin her around in celebration of her escape from Lowtown. Instead she mildly smiled and lightly whacked her on the shoulder. "Well done, Guard Aveline. I hope you can still hang out with us and that...our paths won't cross, you know." She rubbed her forehead with a sigh. They had more than nine months left on their year of service to Athenril, fencing and smuggling and collecting debts.

Bethany sat on a chair and smiled admiringly at Aveline, but as so often, there was a hint of trepidation in her soulful eyes. "You wouldn't turn us in for anything, would you? I mean...not all of what we're doing is entirely legal." The amount of templars in Kirkwall was intimidating, and Bethany was more worried than ever that she'd be caught and brought to the Circle. Having run-ins with the guards would not help her cause.

Aveline stopped spinning and strongly gripped the pommel of her sword, while reaching out to touch Bethany's shoulder reassuringly. "Do not worry. I will protect you. You are the closest I have to family now." She looked proud, and fierce, and utterly beautiful. Hawke had no doubt she meant it. Aveline was a protector, their defender, sharing a connection with the Hawke family. Bethany looked reassured.

"Well, can't linger much, but you know where to find me. I will keep my eyes on you. Now, I must go find my guard captain. Name's Jeven. Not sure what to think of him. He doesn't like Fereldans, but he _is_ my superior. I have many suggestions to make. Lowtown needs more guards, if you ask me!" Aveline's enthusiasm was catchy, and the Hawke sisters and Leandra all looked pleased for her. Gamlen kept shooting dark looks at them all. "Just so you know, Gamlen, I will also keep an eye on you. No more dodgy business for you." Aveline touched two fingers to her right eye and then pointed them at him, before turning to leave.

"This will be nothing but trouble for you two. Mark my words. You better not let that interfere with your work for Athenril, because I sure won't be able to pay her back." Gamlen spit out his words the moment Aveline left, before heading out himself. Probably to alert some of his friends to watch for that new Fereldan guard and avoid her.

Nothing but trouble for them. Aveline's pleased expression was etched into her mind. It was her first moment of genuine happiness since they had come to Kirkwall. Hawke was in so much trouble.

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><p>Hawke shook her head vehemently, looking down at the elven woman who was her boss. Athenril's features were sharp. Very attractive, but lacking any warmth. She did not look as alien as many of the other Kirkwall elves. If she was less delicate of physique and if you imagined rounded ears instead of the sharp pointed ones, she would almost pass as human. A cold, business-like, successful human with a pleasant smile and barbed tongue if she felt like it.<p>

"Oh come on, Hawke, surely it wouldn't hurt to ask? Would it? We are talking about food for the Fereldans. We smuggle extra produce into Kirkwall, sell at high price, and they are well fed. Your guard friend can assist us, because isn't she Fereldan as well? Shouldn't you guys stick together?" Athenril was trying to charm her now with smiles and winks and a touch to Hawke's arm. Awkward. Bethany stood a step behind Hawke, deferentially, but the older sister was sure that Bethany would have a look of disapproval. Or worry, because there were a bunch of templars down the street, on their way to the Blooming Rose.

Again, Hawke shook her head. "I have so many issues with this. I know we have to work for you another couple months, but this is so unethical. You are asking us to participate in a scheme to wring more sovereigns from my already impoverished countrymen. Have you no shame? They left everything behind. They are poor, starving and suffering here in Kirkwall. This is extortion. Find us another task to do." Her voice was full of the indignation she felt, forceful.

She considered for a moment, and then stepped forward, putting a hand on Athenril's shoulder. The elf leaned against it. She had never been shy with remarks and hints that she found Hawke very easy on the eye. Hawke leaned down towards the elf, until their noses were almost touching. "If you ever try to involve my friend in the guards again, in any of your schemes, I'll report you myself. It's not right. She's the most correct person in the world and would never work with you. Don't mention her again." Hawke's voice was a mere whisper now, a sound of warning, the threat of the righteous - just loud enough for Athenril to hear, but too soft for Bethany to understand.

Hawke realized she was less enraged about Athenril's extortion scheme than she was about her wish to involve Aveline. How pathetic. It made her see red. It made her feel selfish and dirty and sanctimonious, all traits that she didn't want to possess.

"Alright, alright, no worries, it was just a plan. I have other irons in the fire, more business at hand." Athenril stepped back, shaking off Hawke's hand, frowning at her. "Tonight, docks, warehouse south. A shipment will arrive. Protect it and see to it that it's delivered to the Lowtown Foundry. I'll see you tomorrow." She stalked off, towards one of the stairways leading out of her niche in Hightown.

Moments later, Aveline stepped out from behind a pillar, in uniform. She was always in uniform these days, even on days off. Bethany touched Hawke's arm, in surprise. Hawke merely stared, her eyes burning, her heart racing. "Unexpected. I didn't expect you lurking around by a brothel, Aveline." She smiled faintly, maybe a touch nervously.

"I told you I'd keep my eyes on you. I am patrolling in Hightown today, and saw a glimpse of you earlier, so I...kept my eyes on you some more. Just in case you were getting into trouble." Aveline crossed her arms in front of her chest, and stood in this way that she had, feet wide apart, as if she was a wall and ready to fend off any attack. She didn't smile, she looked solemn. "I heard what she suggested, and I caught most of what you said to her. You did the right thing, Hawke, I am glad you did. I would never aid you in your work, not like this. I know you're still indebted to her, and in a way I am." She looked displeased by it, but it was the truth. Without Athenril's deal with Gamlen, she would have remained with the other refugees, maybe never let into the city. Instead she led a better life than most, as a member of the guard force.

Aveline didn't have to like it, but she did acknowledge it. "That still doesn't mean that she should misuse you. Try to stick with the 'clean' jobs. Only a couple more months."

Bethany stepped closer. "And then what, Aveline? Then we'll be on our own, trying to carve out a life for ourselves here, without any funds. Have you tried living with Gamlen?" Her sister's face fell and Aveline gave her a sympathetic smile.

"You'll sort things out, I am sure. Look at you, both of you are resourceful. We'll figure something out." Aveline was full of confidence on their behalf, always, and Hawke strove to justify all this confidence. It wasn't easy. Sometimes it was entirely overwhelming.

Hawke's throat felt constricted when she evenly stated, "Of course we will. I'll get us out of that hovel, and we'll be doing great things. That's our destiny, clearly." There was no sarcasm in Hawke's voice. She meant it. She would strive to do great things, mighty deeds that would make Aveline smile, that would please her, and then she would declare herself for the guard.

Aveline chuckled at the proclamation before she took her leave to go back on patrol. Was it one big joke for her? A laugh? Did she have her eyes on someone else, or was she merely blind to Hawke's affections? Hard, no, impossible for Hawke to tell.

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><p>Brennan sounded incessantly grateful. The look on her kind - if a touch mousy - face was one of relief at not having been caught in the ambush that Aveline and her friends had intercepted. She owed the other woman her life. "You're a good one," she stated. Hawke could only nod assent. There was something fishy going on, and Aveline was fighting to get to the bottom of it.<p>

"I will talk to you later, Brennan," Aveline said, barely smiling, her mind already on the next step. Hawke could only admire the woman's tenacity, her drive to get things done. "So the satchel gets heavy the same day we discover an ambush."

Hawke rubbed at her neck. "Rather suspicious. An obvious setup to deliver the satchel to those ambushers. As it failed the first time due to our intervention, it's bound to happen again." Logical assumptions, and Aveline had come to the same decision.

"Another guard walking into the same trap. I can't let that happen." Again, it sounded like Aveline had decided she was the only person in the whole world who could stop this, her always preeminent need to protect. "Brennan said Donnic...a good man." She turned to study the duty roster. "A night patrol in Lowtown. Let's go make sure his quiet patrol stays that way." She didn't even wait for Hawke, Bethany and Varric to follow on her heels. Night was falling.

In passing, Brennan watched them go, worrying on her bottom lip, almost as if she wanted to join them, and yet didn't. Hawke nodded to her, offering a reassuring smile, even though she barely knew the woman.

She didn't even know why she did that. Maybe just to be kind.

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><p>Hawke leaned heavily on her sword, using it like a crutch. Hot droplets of blood were drying on her face, and there were dead coterie thugs, everywhere. They had stopped the ambush in time, even though Guardsman Donnic seemed defeated, curled up on the ground, yet alive. Hawke stood behind him, ready to help him up, but Aveline was first, aiding him.<p>

The man looked like nothing much. Dark brown hair, long sideburns, and an attempt to grow side whiskers. Or maybe he just didn't like to shave his jawline. He was not completely with it, holding on to Aveline's arm. "Who...Ave...Aveline?" He hesitated, and then added in quiet wonder, "You are a beautiful sight."

And she was. Hawke's heart was grabbed by a giant fist, squeezed painfully. The effect of those words on Aveline was painful to behold. Her face was spattered with blood, as she had been on the front line, as always. But her smile was deeper, warmer than anything Hawke had seen in the time she had known her, for over a year. Her green eyes lit up, and she breathed out, "Guardsman?" How lovely she was, and how obviously smitten by the compliment of the first man to make her one after Wesley's death.

_Why did I never tell her she's a beautiful sight? Would she have smiled for me like that?_ Hawke shook her head. Never.

She distracted herself with the satchel on the ground, full of valuable information that the coterie would have treasured. Hawke barely contributed to the discussion, unable to bear looking at Aveline now, who was so full of fire to expose Jeven's corruption.

"Exposing this kind of corruption could make the guards look weak," Hawke mildly added at the end, trying to extinguish the flames of Aveline's righteous anger, and passion. She did not want to make her seem even more beautiful to Donnic. She was so selfish. But of course, nothing would stop Aveline. She sighed with resignation as they headed back to Hightown. It would be a long night.

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><p>Hawke was convinced that the rats were louder than ever tonight. She heard their insistent scratching and squeaking sounds. Sometimes she was grateful that she had the top bunk. The mighty Hawke, scared of rats. Thankfully, Bethany had never told anyone. She restlessly rolled over to her other side. Her mind was racing with useless, pointless thoughts. Would they ever get the sovereigns for their expedition? Would Athenril stab her in the back for dropping her the moment the year was over? Would their mother ever smile again? Was Aveline sitting in the barracks, laughing, giggling with Donnic? She could not stifle her sigh.<p>

"Sister, I will never sleep if you don't stop tossing and turning." Bethany's gentle voice sounded from the lower bunk. "Do you want to talk?"

Hawke sat up and then jumped down, plopping down on Bethany's bunk, sitting by her feet, stretching out one leg against her younger sister, the other foot on the floor next to the bed. "I am sorry, Bethy. I didn't mean to wake you, or keep you from sleeping." Bethany smiled sleepily, brushing her dark bed hair from her face.

"It's alright, sister. What's keeping you up?" Bethany sat up in bed, more awake now.

Turning her head, Hawke stared at the dustbunnies in the corners. Was that a cockroach over there? Probably. Better than a rat. "Everything. Nothing." She stretched her arms up to touch the underside of her lumpy mattress in the top bunk. "I don't want us to live like this. We deserve a better life. I want to be out of Gamlen's hair. You were right to suggest the expedition, I just want it to happen sooner rather than later." She rubbed her eyes, hoping this sounded convincing. They were all valid concerns she had, thoughts that ran through her mind as she carried the burden of responsibility for their fate in Kirkwall.

"We will get there. But..." Bethany hesitated, then touched her sister's calf. "If you never tell her how you feel, she will never regard you as anything but her younger sister. Is that what you want? I don't think so, based on tonight." She spoke these words lightly, with that kind smile of hers on her lips.

Hawke was speechless, gaping at her younger sister. How did she get so wise, so smart? But then, what a foolish question. Bethany was a mage, sharply intelligent, and incredibly perceptive. The first to spot troublesome templars in a crowd, the first to call out when thugs jumped them in Lowtown. The first to recognize that her older sister was in love with Aveline, or presumed she was. It was hard to sort out what those feelings were. Infatuation, crush, lust, love. Which was it? She didn't know.

"No, that's not what I want. How did you...I mean, seriously, Bethy? How?" Hawke stared, with a slight pout. This required explanation.

Bethany continued to smile, but it was a wistful smile. "I saw your face tonight, when Donnic and Aveline had their...moment, I suppose. I guess Aveline doesn't receive a lot of compliments, or he reminds her of Wesley, or...she simply likes him." When Hawke pulled painful faces at all the statements, Bethany gently patted Hawke's leg. "You looked so sad, as if someone took something away from you that was precious. Like when...Carver would take your favorite toy sword, but more meaningful." What a terrible conversation. Was that what Aveline was to her? A shiny toy she could not let anybody else take from her? No.

They exchanged a sad smile when Carver was mentioned. Hawke weakly added, "She means more to me than a toy sword," as if there had been any doubt about that. "It felt like I should have told her something like that, you know? To make her face light up like that. I don't think she understands how beautiful and precious she is. But I don't know how. I really don't know. It would be easier if I felt she would take me seriously. I couldn't bear if she laughed or shrugged it off. She's always been such a good friend to us, what if I fuck that up?"

"Promise me you'll tell her. I love her like a sister too, but ultimately, I want you happy. You two are very similar, did you know that?"

Hawke shook her head at Bethany's question.

"Promise you'll tell her. It need not be right now, but sometime soon." Bethany had a dreamy look on her face. "Isabela has some romance novels, she said. She wants to show them to me, in private. Maybe I can find the right expressions in there for you. I wish to help you."

Hawke slapped Bethany's foot. "Don't fall for that trick, she just wants to corner you. Don't set foot in her room, if you lose your virginity to her, I'll make her pay!"

Bethany looked outraged and deeply flushed. "I'll help you anyhow! With Isabela's novels or without. Maybe Varric has them too!" The two of them giggled, before Bethany turned more serious again. "How long...have you felt like that about her?"

What an uncomfortable question. Like right from the start? No, that would seem improper. Absolutely impossible to admit this. "Uh, shortly after we got to Kirkwall, I suppose. When she joined the guards? Maybe? I don't know." Hawke looked away, staring at the long shadows in the room.

"That sounds vague. Did you not have an earth-shattering revelation, the precise moment when you know that she was the one you were into?" Bethany had all these romantic notions. But no, she could hardly tell her sister she had her revelation like two weeks out from Lothering. "What made you fall for her? I am sorry that I am so curious. I have never liked anyone like that. Sometimes I wonder what it feels like."

Hawke ran her hands through her tousled hair, a nervous gesture while she collected her thoughts. "Um, well, I obviously find her...attractive. Not in the blatant in your face way like, say, Isabela. Her beauty is more subtle. She's strong, and dedicated. She's like this...beacon. She always thinks of those she is loyal to first, fiercely protective. It's like she lights up the room with her inner fire. She's everything I aspire to be."

Bethany pursed her lips at the gushing description. "Interesting. Do you just want to be like her and fawn over her, or do you really care for her? I mean, I admire all those traits in her too, but it's not the same, clearly. What's different?"

A valid question. Was it really just hero-worship that governed her feelings? No. Could she tell her baby sister about her passion for the woman? Andraste help her. "Uh, well, I am pretty sure you don't have uncouth thoughts along with all the admiration. I don't think you admire how the setting sun can make her hair glow like a bright halo of golden light. How the freckles on her nose stand out when she is angry. She actually blanches when she gets really angry. Have you ever seen her flex her arms when she does swordwork? Her eyes are beautiful, emeralds. I mean...Merrill has lovely eyes too, but they seem so alien to me. Aveline is all grounded, like a statue, and I think she makes me a better person."

She actually felt better having put all of this into words. Bethany looked quietly impressed. "That sounded lovely, and really from the heart, sister. I am rooting for you. And I am rooting that I will ever feel the same about someone, just like that."

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><p>Hawke bitterly regretted having listened to her mother, leaving Bethany behind in Kirkwall. Too late to save her. Alas, too little, too late.<p>

All that her beloved little sister now had were the bars of her prison in the Circle of Kirkwall. She would not share in their new riches, would not read romance novels. Would not scoff at their drinking in the Hanged Man. Would not tease her and laugh with her, and certainly would not help her with winning Aveline's heart. Would not get a chance to feel the same way about someone, like Hawke felt for Aveline.

Ironically, it was Aveline who comforted Hawke, and held her in her arms when she cried for her sister, whose worst fears had come true. Hawke hadn't been able to save her. Aveline hadn't been able to save her. They shared the bond of their failure and loss.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I am currently very busy, so updates are taking me a lot longer than usual. My mother-in-law will fly in from the US for the very first time, oh boy oh boy. I hope to get out a chapter or two before her arrival so wish me luck that the muse will be with me. As for this chapter, I am a total dork because I was obsessed with the idea of the first letter of every companion paragraph spelling out a word. Good luck in spotting it. A special shout-out to th1nm1nt for having the patience to proof for me, thank you!

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><p>The streets of Hightown were never particularly busy, no matter what time of day it was. Compared to the rush of Lowtown's bazaar, Hightown's market was a leisurely assortment of booths frequented mostly be servants making purchases for their masters, and the odd son of nobility admiring Korval's swords or Olaf's armor. The pace on top of Kirkwall was just a lot slower than in the other parts of the city, at least out in the open. Behind locked doors was another matter entirely.<p>

Still, there were chests filled with sovereigns that drew long fingers, and no end of thugs. There would be no incidents. Not on Aveline's shift; she would make sure of that. Her shift never ended, she was guard captain every waking moment.

Walking alongside with her was Guardsman Brennan, who had been a friend and confidante ever since Jeven's disposal. The mousy woman with the plain but kind face was a good guard, and was one of the first to fully support her as the new guard captain when the reins were handed to her. The others had joined her in a more disgruntled fashion - at least most of them. There were still some traditionalists who thought her to be an upstart, a dirty Fereldan who was taking a position that belonged to a Free Marcher, a Kirkwall native. Screw them all. Aveline gave more of her heartblood for this city than Jeven before her, no doubt.

As they made their rounds on the bazaar, Aveline nodded to Hubert who profusely bowed to her in that boot-licking manner that Orlesian men had down to perfection. Her father had not been like that at all. Benoit du Lac was a chevalier. Courteous, always a gentleman, but firm when necessary. He did not brown-nose anyone. Then, he had been living in Ferelden for parts of his life. Maybe that had its impact on him.

"It's so funny how he likes to bow to you every time we pass here," Brennan stated with a laugh. Aveline tugged on her russet scarf and rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "He's in business with your friend, isn't he?"

Aveline nodded to that. "Hawke owns a share of the Bone Pit and makes sure he treats his Fereldan workers with respect. If she didn't, he would abuse them and wring them dry. He's a cold, heartless bastard but Hawke's doing a good thing, keeping them employed. It's been years and still many won't hire Fereldans. Even I still get to hear dirty remarks about my origin." She gave Brennan a sidelong glance. "Because clearly, you Marchers have a better handle on how to run things around here. That's why Hawke is having such impact on Kirkwall, even being consulted by the viscount." She snorted sarcastically, and yet could not help but have a smile touch her lips. She was incessantly proud of her dear friend Hawke.

As they moved towards the Viscount's Way, they passed the Amell Estate, now home of the Hawke family. Or what was left of it, with Bethany held in the Kirkwall Circle. "Isn't this where your friend lives?" Brennan asked, studying the tall walls and the coat-of-arms Hawke was using as sign by the front door. "Pretty fancy, if you ask me. I hear Amell, I think of that weasel Gamlen, and one of his dirty deals in Lowtown. But back in the day, they were up in everyone's business, high in favor, the Amells. Kinda like your friend." Brennan tilted her head to look up at the building. "Is it true she employs dwarves and elves as real servants? You don't see a lot of those in Hightown." She sounded genuinely curious. The guard was of simple yet good descent. While the upper middle class often lived in Hightown as well, most families of simple workers lived in the better parts of Lowtown, closer to the stairs that led up. The closer to the stairs your house was, the better you did for yourself. Brennan's family had lived mere minutes from the steps. Old Kirkwallers.

"She's done well for herself, Hawke, and it's justly deserved. She works hard for her wealth. Made it rich in the Deep Roads, and yet, is still grounded and good. That's it, she's just a good person. I can't fault her for anything. She helps the weak and the poor and defends those she cares about, but always within the limits of the law." Most of the time, at least. "In a pinch, I can always rely on her, she's never let me down. Her heart is gold. She's just all around wonderful. It's true, her friends are…a bit of a rag-tag band, but they're all good ones. And yes, she employs dwarves and an elf. She freed a slave who didn't know what to do with herself as free woman, so now she's working as a servant at the estate." Aveline's words were forceful and were generously laced with the affection she felt for Hawke. She arched her brows in confusion when Brennan started to giggle, and looked at her, full of affront.

"I am sorry, Aveline, I swear, but for a moment it sounded like you were describing like your…dream partner. It was so cute. You're always so serious, and here you almost sounded like you were crushing on her." Brennan covered her mouth with a hand and tried to regain a more serious composure. "I am sorry, I shouldn't mock you, when you choose to join a plain guard on her tour through Hightown just for shit and giggles." Her cheeks were rosy, and her brown eyes were twinkling with mischief. Before Aveline could dwell on the other woman's giggles, Brennan went on. "Speaking of crushes, did you see Donnic earlier, in the training yard? He's so handsome. I want to nuzzle those side-whiskers. He's so calm and strong, isn't he?" She had a dreamy expression on her face.

Aveline pressed her lips together, any good mood evaporated. She was unsure what bothered her more: being accused of crushing on Hawke or Brennan sighing over Donnic in the yard. Both things bothered her immensely. "I'll head back to the barracks, Bren. I am sure you're fine for the rest of the tour without me." She adjusted Wesley's shield on her back and headed towards the Keep, never looking back at Brennan who was left behind, staring at Aveline's broad back with a confused frown on her face.

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><p>The lines of the report went blurry as Aveline stared at the parchment with her mind far away. She didn't stir herself from her reverie until the ink from her quill spilled into a big blob, pooling onto the desk. With a curse, Aveline dropped the quill and pulled the report away from the stain.<p>

It had been hours and still Aveline's mind was resting on Brennan's jests. Was the other woman right? Was Aveline's admiration for Hawke something akin to a crush? Aveline took no issue with the suggestion that she might be interested in a woman. She knew it was something that was entirely possible. She was fully convinced that the Chantry sisters practiced a very non-sisterly kind of love. It happened in the military, anywhere. Did it happen for Aveline? That was indeed the question.

Hawke was without a doubt a very attractive woman. It wasn't only the physical aspects or her piercing gaze. She had this aura that made everyone around her want to be with her. She was kind, friendly and caring to all those she called friends. Aveline knew that if she watched Hawke's interactions with her friends, she would find signs that they were all head over heels for the woman. Everyone knew. The only one who didn't or who decided to ignore was Hawke herself. She was so blind in that respect. Oblivious.

Aveline's lips were pursed. Did she herself count amongst those who were head over heels for her friend? She adored her, she admired her. But no, their friendship was not like that. Hawke had never given any indication. Aveline didn't even know why right now she felt so confused.

She focused on the other issue now. Donnic. A good man, no doubt. It shouldn't bother her Brennan took an interest in him. He was good-looking, a hard worker, and from all that she had seen he was just and kind. Basically all attributes that she attributed to Hawke as well. They didn't have much contact aside from the usual relationship she had to all guards as their captain. Brennan was really the only exception, the only guard she spent time with outside of duty.

Aveline sighed, her heart heavy. What time was it? Late evening? Like most evenings she sat in the office for hours, working on reports until it was time for bed. It wasn't much of a social life but it was the life that she wanted. She turned her head to look at Ser Wesley's shield leaning against the wall. It had been years now yet she had never let go of his shield. Hawke had offered her many superior ones in their time together. Aveline always declined, politely but very firmly. She still mourned him. She still felt she failed him. And yet…how good would it feel to have another special person in her life?

The guards and the Hawke family were her own family now, and yet, on nights like these, she craved more than that. She did not need to feel passion in her life. Her marriage with Wesley had been full of kindness and warmth but little passion. She needed something to hold on to beyond the city guards. A life of her own. She needed something more.

* * *

><p>Belligerent as ever, Anders was practically bristling at them, pacing restlessly around his clinic with the manifesto in hand. He would find a nasty end, this one. Aveline thought it was such a waste of talent. He had admirable skills as a healer, as a Grey Warden, and yet he had decided to invite a demon into himself. She had no patience for such foolishness. And yet here she was, along with Hawke, Varric and Merrill, listening to his passionate speeches. His latest obsession was a templar named Ser Alrik, who supposedly planned to make all Circle mages tranquil. Aveline had inquired about this templar, subtly, and heard unpleasant things but nothing as extreme as Anders would suggest.<p>

"Hawke, we have to find him. We have to stop him." His voice was beseeching Hawke now, looking at her from his dark eyes, his desperate face. "I can't tell you much about the Mage Underground, you mingle with the guards too much." Now Anders' eyes grazed her and that made her gnash her teeth. She wanted to speak up, but Hawke reached a hand behind her without looking, landing right on Aveline's crossed arms. Almost as if she had known Aveline would push forward at this accusation. It had a calming effect on her, and she took a step backward again.

"I wouldn't let you face this alone," Hawke said with a gentle smile. "We'll join you, and we'll look into this Ser Alrik." She stood ramrod straight, carrying her sword on her back. As if there had ever been any doubt about this. Hawke always supported her friends, even their crazier schemes.

Anders took a step closer to Hawke, and the belligerence disappeared from his face. Maybe Justice had withdrawn, and Anders was to the fore again. "You are the one bright light in Kirkwall," he stated with emotion, reaching out to touch Hawke's hand, taking it. He looked ready to burst into tears, or to pull Hawke into his arms to never let go. You could read him like a book. "Thank you, Hawke. Will you stay here a while longer with me? We could p-plan how to proceed?" Aveline was sure his hand was sweaty as it held Hawke's.

Hawke took a step back, looking solemn. Hah, there, now she withdrew her hand and then covertly wiped the palm on her armor. Sweaty hands alright. "No, I should head back to Hightown, I have some preparations to make for this. I will pick a team and will be back by nightfall, Anders. Maker bless you."

As they took their leave, Aveline shook her head. It was so obvious Anders had wanted alone time with Hawke, and yet she would have none of it. She never acted as if she even noticed him in that respect. Poor Anders.

* * *

><p>Literally mowing her enemies down like a scythe in a splatter of blood, Hawke drove her sword into the group of slavers with reckless abandon. Aveline bound their attention on her, and they never saw Hawke coming. They felt her though. She and Fenris were a lethal combination, a deadly dance of swords, both fervent in their desire to rid the world of slavers.<p>

Once the last slaver was down, Hawke stood there, panting, pulling off a glove to wipe blood off her face. She kicked at a severed arm with no concern. "Should have been all. Let's see if they kept any captives in this cave, so we can let them go." Before she turned to do just that, and while Isabela was already looking through pockets to rid the dead slavers off their stuff, Hawke briefly stopped to lean against Aveline. "Excellent work. You make it so easy to flank them." Aveline nodded with a smile. They understood each other blindly, even in combat.

When Hawke stalked off to look through the back of the caves, Fenris remained behind. His brooding eyes never left her. Only they weren't brooding so much right now. Merrill had once accused him of looking like a puppy when he thought Hawke wasn't looking, and Aveline agreed with that assessment.

When Fenris caught notice of Aveline's stare, he rolled his shoulder and then darkly stated "If the world had a dozen more Hawkes, we could go to Tevinter and destroy the Imperium. We would win. No more magisters and slavers to exploit the weak."

"Then they would come up with something else. Someone always exploits the weak, one way or another. I don't think Hawke would want to do an Exalted March on Tevinter. She's only doing what she needs to to protect Kirkwall." Aveline stated this matter-of-factly, convinced she was right. Fenris glared at her and then followed Hawke, driven like a moth to the flame.

* * *

><p>Isabela wouldn't know subtle if it hit her in the face. All night she had been drinking rum and flirting with Hawke, to the point that it made Aveline blush in embarrassment. It certainly was a special Diamondback night in the Hanged Man. "Are you sure you don't want to come up to my room, sweetcheeks? I would steer your rudder, you wouldn't believe it. I would soak your schooner, and yet sail her home safely. You're always so stressed lately. It would give us great pleasure, promise." She winked saucily.<p>

"Shut up, whore. Don't you see she's not interested?" Aveline finally had enough, a vein popping at her temple. She felt she was speaking for all of them at the table. Just about the only one who did not look upset at the clever come-ons was Varric, who had the time of his life, laughing uproariously at every new euphemism for sex that Isabela came up with. There had been a lot of those.

Hawke was seated next to Aveline and gently touched her, brushing her fingers along her arm. "It's okay. I am a big girl, I can take care of myself." She chuckled at Isabela. "You are very persistent. An admirable trait. You should be as persistent in finding this relic of yours." She actually blew Isabela a kiss as she rose. "I'm knackered. Bowing out of the game before you guys rob me blind some more."

There were sounds of disappointment when Hawke left. She didn't usually leave quite this early. "There. You did it now, slattern. Of course she looks stressed when you hound her like that!" Aveline wasn't done yet and looked ready to deck Isabela.

"Oh, shut up yourself, prig. I am trying to loosen her up, that's all. You and her both, you're always so uptight, with that stick rammed up your asses. Can you even wedge it loose? I doubt you can. For her, there's hope at least." Varric put a cautioning hand on Isabela's shoulder while Merrill looked as if she wanted to hide under the table. Isabela merely laughed. "Ah, come on, are you that blind, Aveline? Seriously? Come on, is this for real? You two are really too precious." Laughing at this joke she only seemed to understand herself, Isabela finally played her cards.

Aveline had no idea what the pirate had just been talking about.

* * *

><p>Naive didn't even begin to describe Merrill, at times. Today was one of these days. "Really, a rat as big as an ox? Would that make the rat taller than you are, Varric?" Merrill gazed down one of the tunnels in Darktown, the stench of sewage overwhelming, expecting said giant rat to make an appearance. How the Dalish could walk barefoot here was beyond Aveline. The thought made her gag.<p>

"Don't let him pull your leg, Merrill." Hawke gently chided Varric until she noticed Merrill staring down at her legs, then at Varric. "I didn't mean this literally, Merrill, he's not about to yank you around. He is just telling you one of his tall tales." Now Merrill looked up with a frown, obviously about to debate that Varric wasn't tall. "It's not true. There are no oxen-sized rats here." Hawke never got exasperated with Merrill's literal approach to life in Kirkwall. She patiently explained anything to her. Varric's funny expressions, Sebastian's preachy Chantry wisdom, even dirty talk from Merrill's best friend Isabela. Hawke explained it all.

Merrill had been the first companion who had an open interest in Hawke. Even in her first couple weeks in Kirkwall, she had already revealed to Aveline how fond she was of the woman. Unfortunately for the Dalish, Hawke treated her like a baby sister, much like she had been with Bethany who she still missed fiercely.

Aveline fell back to walk with Merrill, letting Varric and Hawke lead the way. As much as she tried, she did not understand the elf. She clearly was brilliant. Aveline didn't know much about magic other than what she had witnessed from her travels with Anders, Bethany and Merrill. There was no doubt that Merrill had the strongest talent of those three, an incredible force to be reckoned with. Yet she risked it all, risked her life for a stupid mirror and for recreating the glory of the past, instead of forging a new future. "You're incredibly talented, Merrill. I can see you are meant for great things."

A pleased blush crept into Merrill's cheeks, highlit by the dark lines of her vallaslin. "Thank you!" She looked excited and pleased, so Aveline pushed forward in her usual battering ram style approach.

"But you're stupid." There, she said it. Hawke turned towards them as she walked, her eyes widened in disbelief. Aveline ignored Merrill's confused look. "Don't you think it would be better to work on where you are now, instead of recreating old glory? Do you want to live in the alienage in poverty for the rest of your life? Dwelling on past achievements won't serve anyone, the least of all you."

Merrill glared like a child whose sandcastle did not receive the winning prize in a contest. "That's kind of the opposite of what I've been saying. And I am the stupid one? Whatever!" The Dalish could sulk better than any teenager. She quickly walked away to catch up with Varric, eager to get away from Aveline.

Hawke fell back, faintly smiling at Aveline with a sigh. "You have to treat her with gentleness. I have been trying to guide her away from all this eluvian and blood magic nonsense. Now she's going to be petulant for a while."

"Sometimes you are too nice, Hawke. You can't be kind to everyone. Sometimes you have to be firm. Especially if you want to make someone see something they're too blind to notice." Hawke gave her a quizzical look at this, opened her mouth as if to say something, and then merely smiled...regretfully? Something akin to that.

Aveline watched her put an arm around Merrill's shoulders briefly and the joy of this contact lit the elf up like a torch quite visibly. For anyone to see but Hawke.

* * *

><p>Devout was not an expression Aveline would use to describe herself. Her belief in the Chantry was the perfunctory kind. She could sing along to the Chant of Light if she had to but she definitely wasn't a common visitor at the Chantry. Hawke on the other hand frequented the Chantry almost daily.<p>

When confronted with the question of why she did this to herself, she had explained to Aveline that it made her feel closer to Bethany, and that her belief in the purity of Chantry beliefs and the meaning behind the chant were the only thing that made the thought of Bethany imprisoned in the Circle tolerable. "There has to be a reason, and a good one. If the Chantry is good, and they govern the circle, then no harm will come to her." She had stated this with burning eyes and shaking voice.

They both knew better that even if the Chantry was full of purity and honest intentions, Meredith's templars were another matter entirely. Ser Alrik and his tormenting of Circle mages had been real. Aveline could not blame Hawke for clinging to hope that Bethany would be doing alright. The sisters frequently exchanged letters, as much as the templars would allow it.

Aveline leaned against one of the walls in the Chantry, watching sisters chitter-chatter while Merrill and Isabela snuck off to Maker knows where. Aveline would not be surprised if Isabela tried to pry some of the gold adornments off some of the Chantry sculptures. Merrill found everything in the Chantry obscure and enlightening, the greatest fairy tale of all the stories she had heard in her time in Kirkwall. "Pray faster," the guard captain murmured with irritation. They should be investigating all the trouble that was going on with the Qunari instead of wasting hours in this building. Patience was not always her strength.

Hawke kneeled in front of the central altar. Andraste was towering above her with raised sword, surrounded by a multitude of candles. Hawke had her eyes closed and never noticed Sebastian Vael behind her. Resplendent in his white armor, his bow carried on his back, the exiled prince kneeled by Hawke's side. Instead of closing his eyes for his chant, he studied Hawke with his watery, blue eyes. How romantic he must find her. He a brother of the faith, and there was Hawke, chaste, ignorant of all her friends' attentions, pure. He seemed captivated.

Hawke lifted her head, blinking slowly. She rose and almost stumbled over Sebastian who had kneeled right next to her without her ever knowing. She leaned on his shoulder for a moment, surprised and he used the opportunity to cover her hand with his own, all gallantly. Their gazes crossed. If you had tinder and wood, it would have ignited from the sparks in Sebastian's eyes. Right afterwards, it would have been extinguished from Hawke's cool gaze and small smile, as she turned to leave without any further interaction. "Let's go," she murmured to Aveline in passing. "The air is stuffy in here, isn't it? Let's see if we can find any hints of the missing Qunari delegation."

That was more like it. Aveline nodded and walked with Hawke, shoulder to shoulder.

* * *

><p>Aveline stared at the ceiling, sleepless. It was a warm night, but that was not the cause of her insomnia. It had been a particularly taxing month. The rising Qunari tensions, and all the interactions with Sister Patrice, the conniving Chantry bitch, they were a bit much.<p>

In all honesty though, Aveline was mostly taxed from the song and dance of their group around Hawke. She would have to make a decision sometime, surely, just so this would end.

Just like she herself had to make a decision. It was patently obvious to her now that she was overwhelmingly lonely. Only one way to fix that. Courtship. There was only one candidate for it. Sometimes her mind was playing tricks on her and insisted there were two candidates but Aveline was too pragmatic to listen to this very little voice. _Hawke has enough suitors on hand. We're like sisters._

No, there was only one candidate, a sensible choice when it came to finding a partner. Good qualities, good breeding stock, a fine Kirkwall citizen. She felt a small twinge of bad conscience because she knew Brennan fancied him. She had waited long months to see if her friend made a move and she never did. It was time.

Aveline would court Donnic Hendyr.


End file.
